


Proving a Point

by nonbinarycoded



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, inspired by art linked in the author's note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinarycoded/pseuds/nonbinarycoded
Summary: In Percy’s defense, Pepperbox really wasn’t meant for close range combat. It also didn’t help that Grog was a fucking monster of a man, both literally and figuratively; really, the fight had been over before it had started. But that wasn’t how this began.Or, the one where Grog decides to get back at Percy for saying he could beat Grog in a fight, and Percy realizes he might have a thing for people that are stronger than him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some _incredible_ art done by meglm on tumblr! Thank you so much for letting me write this, now that I've been dragged feet first into this ship. <http://nonbinaryvexahlia.tumblr.com/post/151957358112/meglm-nonartblog-more-cr-discord-sin-fest-2k16>

In Percy’s defense, Pepperbox really wasn’t meant for close range combat. It also didn’t help that Grog was a fucking _monster_ of a man, both literally and figuratively; really, the fight had been over before it had started. But that wasn’t how this began.

It began with a long day, full of walking without enough fighting to make things interesting. Grog had been antsy and made no move to disguise it, heading straight down for the training room once Scanlan had his mansion open. Percy gave him a wide berth, because after his comment on being able to beat Grog in a fight, he wanted nothing to do with the behemoth.

No such luck, apparently.

Percy had passed by the doorway leading down to the training room just as Grog had decided to come up for food, because of course he had. Of course his luck would vanish on him at that exact moment. Of fucking course. Grog, previous thoughts of food abandoned, lifted Percy by his waist and threw him over his shoulder with absolutely no warning. Amid a great deal of squeaking protests from Percy, he said, “I’ve been lookin’ for you! You’re coming with me.”

“What are you-- _Why?!”_

“You said you could beat me in a fight. We’re gonna test that, right now. I’ll even let you use that pepper shaker of yours.”

“ _Pepperbox_.” It occurred to Percy at that moment that his last words might be the exasperated correction of someone in Vox Machina.

It also occurred to Percy that he was not at all surprised by this fact.

“Sure, that,” Grog said, in a way that suggested he hadn’t listened to Percy at all. This was annoying, but ultimately unsurprising, because it was fairly obvious Grog also hadn’t listened to any of Percy’s demands that he be put down. They finished descending the stairs into the training room, and Percy had just enough time to take in the destroyed training dummy in the corner— _Oh gods, had Grog done that?_ —before Grog dropped him on his ass in the dirt. “You ready?”

What Percy wanted to say while he got up was something along the lines of _of course I’m not okay, I didn’t agree to this, I’ve been very loudly disagreeing to this since you found me, I don’t want to die in a place owned by_  Scanlan _of all people._ What actually left Percy’s mouth was, “Was your ego so hurt by a throwaway comment about my skill that you think _this_ is necessary?”

This was perhaps the wrong thing to say, because Grog squared his shoulders and stepped back with a grin that was downright feral. “Can’t let you get away with sayin’ shit about me, can I? I’ve gotta prove my point. Get your pepper shaker ready!” Percy obliged, readying the pistol and lowering the barrel to the ground. Grog made an attempt at counting down from three, and then the spar was on.

In the same breath the fight had started, it had ended. Percy wasn’t even certain how he’d gotten into the position he was in, his back to Grog and his shooting hand held up in the air. He remembered a blur of mountain-sized gray coming at him alarmingly quickly, then being in the air, then being exactly where he was now, pinned to Grog’s chest.

“I win,” Grog said in a low voice that was _definitely_ too close to his ear. Percy tried to tilt his head away and found that he couldn’t; his head was pinned firmly between Grog’s shoulder and cheek and Percy had to try alarmingly hard to keep his mind off the way Grog’s beard scratched at his neck.

“You-- Alright, yes, you _win_ , now please let me go--” Percy said, finding that he couldn’t move a single one of his limbs. He’d known Grog was strong, but he tried not to make a habit of ending up on the receiving end of that strength. _Perhaps you should_ , a treacherous little part of his mind supplied quietly, and it was tough to ignore that part of his mind when Grog’s voice was still _far too close to his ear dammit._

“What’s wrong, don’t you want to go for a second round? I’m having fun!” What Percy wanted most at the moment was actually some time alone and something so distracting he’d forget all about what was happening. What he got instead was the horrifying realization that his pants were growing tighter.

" _No thank you—_ ” he’d blurted, trying and failing one final time to pry himself free. Grog shrugged and let him go, and Percy nearly fell onto his face in his scramble to get away. He made it to the doorway in what he liked to think was some kind of record time, not even turning back to look at Grog as he spoke. “Well, you’ve proved your point, I’ll be off now, I’m glad you had fun, I—”

He was cut off by a shocked noise he wasn’t entirely certain was human when Grog grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back into the room. Had he made that noise? There was no way he’d made that noise. There was a long moment where Percy’s face grew steadily more red and Grog tried to process exactly what had just happened. “...Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone make a noise like that before.”

“I’m _fine_. Why are you holding me here, Grog.” It was a fight to keep his voice even.

“You gotta come back here again. You’re always so stressed, and I never see you in here. You’re always locked in your workshop. Come spar with me again, take the edge off.”

One part of Percy’s brain said _I fail to see how sparring with you can be considered ‘taking the edge off’ since that was one of the most stressful experiences of my life._ A second part supplied something even more humiliating than the noise he’d made; he was just thankful he had the sense to stop himself from saying anything. While those two sides warred, a third took the controls and provided him with something suitable to say.

“...Perhaps after I’ve recovered from this round. Now Grog, _please_ let me go.” Grog did so, and Percy retreated back up to his own room, accompanied by the sound of Grog laughing at him.


End file.
